I don’t need to hear more voices telling me the train is careening precariously close to the canyon cliff. I can see it with my own eyes.
And I don’t need more finger pointed, anger laced, fear based sound bites trying to simplify this tangled mess.
So I’ll let my words be few as well.
What I 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 is for the Word Made Flesh to trade my heavy heart for his easy yoke and burden light.
What I 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 is for the Holy Truth to breathe fire in my soul, searing away the pride, the side-eye, the sharp words.
What I 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 is to rip my gaze from the raging storm and lift my eyes to the One who whispers, “Peace. Be still.”
So I’ve got the words of the Psalm King and his band of songwriters running loud in the kitchen, following me up and down the stairs while I’m carting babies and laundry.
There you have a people who knew a thing or two about turbulent times and fractured nations. A people who understood what it was to be curled up in your bed, asking God when exactly He planned on making an appearance into this whole mess.
They also knew that when the world was shaking something fierce, our God was and is the firm foundation. He is unchanging, all-knowing, ever-present. Kingdoms rise and fall but He remains a strong and mighty fortress.
And THAT is good news and reason to still hope.